


Alexandria

by unrestedjade



Category: Legend of Zelda
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, wizard shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrestedjade/pseuds/unrestedjade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shad finds the course of his life altered when he stops Ganondorf's execution.  Princess Zelda agrees to a more merciful solution, and entrusts Shad with the care of the muzzled King of Evil.  Knowledge that has been lost for centuries is now open to the young historian, but will he like what his learns?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A post months ago, by bonjiro I think, turned me on to the idea of Shad and Ganondorf being a thing that could happen, and hoo boy. I’m sure that somewhere there exist ships I won’t ship, but I haven’t found them yet.
    
    
    Old childhood haunts often seemed smaller when revisited as an adult.  Hyrule Castle was no smaller, no less grand now than it had been when Shad was a boy.  The ceilings were just as soaring, the tall windows just as glittering, the corridors just as labyrinthine as they'd been over a decade ago.
    
    It was bittersweet to walk these halls again after so long.   His new apartments were nowhere near the servants' quarters, in a wing of the castle he'd never had reason to enter.  The unfamiliar surroundings were both blessing and curse.  They didn't serve as a reminder of his father the way the servants' quarters would have, but at the same time they impressed upon him just how much his return to Hyrule Castle was in no way a homecoming.  
    
    His steps slowed the nearer he got to his door.  This...arrangement had existed for just one day, and while he insisted to himself that he wasn't having second thoughts, he was certainly having some mild misgivings.
    
    _"You understand," Princess Zelda had said, "that this would be permanent?  Even I will not be able to break the spell once it's cast."_
    
    _He had nodded.  "I take full responsibility, Your Highness."_  
    
    He had sounded very gallant, very forthright, he'd thought.
    
    Shad frowned to himself as he dragged his feet.  Half of him was trying to talk the other half into giving up and retreating to the library again, but he persevered, one reluctant step at a time.
    
    _"Do you realize what that will entail?  What you are sacrificing?"  The princess' brows knit in concern.  "You'll lose any chance at a normal life."_
    
    _"I've dedicated my life to the pursuit of knowledge," he'd said, heroically.  "To truth.  Everything he knows would die with him, and whatever he's done, I can't allow that to happen.  He's irreplaceable, Your Highness."  He had paused here, to great dramatic effect.  "And there's been enough bloodshed already.  This has to be the better way."_  
    
    It had been his bravest moment.  He'd stood up to the princess herself, and in the end she had agreed on a more merciful solution than an execution, had looked on Shad with respect.  Trusted him.  
    
    He very much hoped that trust had not been misplaced.  But she was the embodiment of Wisdom, wasn't she?  If she thought he was worthy of this responsibility, then he surely must be.  He would make sure he was.
    
    Hand on the door handle, Shad took a deep breath and braced himself.  Right.  Once more into the breach.
    
    His charge was sitting in the same chair the guards had left him in, staring at the floor.  
    Shad set the small stack of books he'd brought from the library on a side table and moved to stoke the fire.  He glanced over to see if the man had raised his eyes to watch him.  No, he hadn't.  There was no indication that he'd moved at all in the last five hours.  
    
    A catatonic warlord from the distant past was not something Shad was prepared to deal with.  He wasn't prepared for any of this; there hadn't been time.  
    
    The runes Princess Zelda had placed on him shifted restlessly, just visible under the skin of his wrist.  It didn't itch, but he scratched at it lightly, thinking.
    
    First things first.  The Demon King had spent the last week in a dungeon cell while the execution had been organized, and it showed.  He'd been relieved of his armor.  Dirt and blood stained his clothing, his hair had half-escaped its elaborate styling to hang in his face, and the smell of stale sweat and blood and whatever fetid things grew in the dungeons had already permeated the room.    
    
    Shad cleared his throat.  "Ganondorf," he said, the name ringing surreal in his ears.  "Stand up?"  
    
    Ganondorf did as he was told.  The spell was strong, strong enough to render a powerful sorcerer essentially harmless.  Shad didn't doubt Princess Zelda's spellcraft, but watching Ganondorf unfold from the chair to tower over him made him feel like a mouse standing before a cat, regardless.  
    
    He stomped on the compulsion to flee.  "Right, thank you," he said.  "We should get you cleaned up.  I, uh, don't expect you'll know how to work the plumbing, so I'll show you."  
    
    Shad hadn't taken more than a cursory tour of his new chambers before Ganondorf had been relocated from the dungeons, but he was fairly sure he remembered where the washrooms were.  He stopped halfway across the room when he realized that Ganondorf hadn't moved.
    
    "Um, follow me?"  
    
    
    
    The apartments were large and well-appointed, and had two bedchambers  off of the central parlor, each with an attached washroom.  The princess had been more than generous in giving him such fine quarters, though he suspected this location was as much about keeping Ganondorf isolated in a little-used section of the castle as it was anything else.  The fine, but outdated décor certainly suggested such an explanation.
    
    They stood in what Shad had decided was Ganondorf's washroom.  "So," Shad said, "Indoor plumbing.  The water closet is behind this door--"  He pointed to the narrow door.  "I'm sure you can figure it out, and you just pull the chain on the water tank when you're finished, and, er..."  
    
    Ganondorf looked incredibly disinterested.  
    
    "Anyway, the bathtub."  Shad walked to the tub and opened the tap.  "Cold water comes out if you turn this valve, and hot water comes out the other one," he said over the sound of the water.  "And it looks like there's soaps on this shelf, here, and there's towels to dry off with when you're done."  
    
    Ganondorf stared at the water, eyes dull.  
    
    "Take your time, um..."  Shad gestured to the tub.  "You might need to change the water once or twice, no offense."  He coughed.  "I'll give you some privacy."  
    
    At the two hour mark, Shad started to wonder what was taking so long.  He marked his place in his book and wandered to the door to his charge's bedchamber.  Maybe Ganondorf had simply turned in after his bath, but Shad had a suspicion that he'd find the man standing in the bathroom, filth-encrusted as ever, staring at a tub full of cold water.  He sighed.  
    
    The bed was still made, and empty.  Shad frowned.  Right.  Either he needed to remind Ganondorf to actually get into the bath, or remind him that he needed to get out at some point.  Even that many layers of grime didn't take two hours to scrub off.
    
    When there was no reply to his knock on the bathroom door, irritation tipped into worry.  What if Ganondorf had drowned?  The thought was ridiculous-- what kind of ancient evil drowned in a bathtub?  Still...
    
    He opened the door a crack, but the sight of a dark-skinned arm hanging over the edge of the tub had him across the room in a heartbeat.  "Oh, no no no..."  Ganondorf wasn't moving, his face slack.  One day, he couldn't even last one day. Shad reached out to shake the warlord, see if he could get a response.
    
    Faster than the eye could follow, a hand wrapped around his throat, hard as iron bands.  There was a sharp cry, and the grip was gone just as quickly.  
    
    Shad rubbed his throat, trying to get his bearings.  He could swear he'd left the floor for a second.  For the life of him, he couldn't recall which of them had yelled.
    
    Ganondorf clutched at the sides of the tub, breathing through gritted teeth.  He opened his eyes a slit, and any trace of apathy was gone.  "What."
    
    "I," Shad said, still gasping.  His throat hurt.  "I thought you'd drowned."
    
    "Drowned."  Ganondorf stared at him.  "With my head above the water."
    
    "With your head..."  Shad blinked, trying to remember exactly what he'd seen when he'd entered the room.  ...Oh.  "Right.  I'm an idiot."
    
    "Yes," Ganondorf said.  
    
    Clearing his throat, Shad stepped back, his knees wobbling a bit.  That had been not a little terrifying.  The spell kept Ganondorf from harming him, but only, evidently, when Ganondorf knew he was there.  Shad would have to remember that.  
    
    Remember, and hope that there weren't any other flaws in the spell.
    
    A sigh from the bathtub drew him out of his worries.  "Yes, well," he said, fidgeting with his shirt cuffs.  "It's getting rather late, and you're obviously tired, so perhaps it's best to..."  He made a sort of 'stand up' gesture with his hands.  Giving orders didn't feel natural to him, leaving aside the person he was ordering.
    
    Shad had planned to leave again to give the warlord his privacy, and was entirely unprepared when the man simply stood up.
    
    "Oh, my goodness!"  Shad whirled to face the opposite wall.  He could feel his face burning.  Well.  He supposed that was his own fault for telling Ganondorf to stand up.  "Um," he said.  Should he leave?  But that would necessitate turning around...  "Er..."
    
    He could hear Ganondorf moving around the room behind him.  The man was grumbling under his breath, but Shad couldn't make out the words.  Old Hylian?  Or was it Gerudo?  Despite his predicament, he was quietly thrilled at the chance to hear a dead language spoken aloud.  He was sure Ganondorf was saying entirely insulting things by his tone, but he didn't mind.  It was quite understandable, under the circumstances.
    
    "Is it safe to turn around?"  Things had quieted down on Ganondorf's side of the room, and Shad supposed he couldn't stare at the wallpaper all evening.
    
    "My cock is covered, if that's what you mean, little jailer."
    
    Er.  Shad felt his ears must have gone a shade or two redder.  
    
    Ganondorf had wrapped a towel around his hips, but he was far from decent, and that's when it occurred to Shad that he had nothing for his charge to wear.  The torn and bloodied garments Ganondorf had worn under his armor were unsalvageable, and unsuitable besides.  The man couldn't go about in a torn arming doublet and the like.
    
    This was a fairly significant problem.
    
    "I'm going to have to find you some clothing, I think."  Shad looked the larger man over.  "That...may pose a challenge."
    
    Ganondorf sneered.  Wringing his hair out one last time, he set about braiding it.  It was much longer than Shad had realized.
    
    A network of faint scars criss-crossed much of the man's skin, along with fresher injuries that were just starting to heal (poorly, Shad noted, and that would have to be addressed, as well).  It was the large, pale scar along Ganondorf's breastbone that drew the eye above all the others.  The skin there was pearly, and in the dim lighting it appeared almost to glow with a faint light of its own.  There was something distinctly unnatural about it. 
    
    Had he been staring?  He hoped he hadn't been staring.  Ganondorf raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that made Shad suspect he'd been staring.  
    
    "Right," he said. "That will have to wait until tomorrow.  For now, it might be best if we both got some rest.  It's been a very long day."
    
    "A longer day than I was expecting," Ganondorf said.  His smirk didn't reach his eyes.
    
    Shad faltered.  "Ah...yes."  He didn't know what else to say to that.  Taking the lantern, he led the way back into the bedchamber.  This time, Ganondorf didn't need prompting to follow him, which Shad took as a good sign.
    
    The bedchamber was dark, and Shad realized he'd forgotten to light the fire.  He set the lantern on the bedside table and moved for the fireplace.
    
    "I don't need it.  Leave."
    
    Shad stopped.  "Are you sure?"  He watched Ganondorf turn down the bedcovers.  "Your hair is still wet, and it's not terribly _I wish you'd give me some warning._ "  Shad put one hand up to blinker his eyes.  Thankfully, he had a clear path to the door this time.  "Right, I'll just be leaving, then."  Ganondorf wasn't one for subtle hints, it seemed.
    
    Add a nightshirt to the list of clothes he needed to find.  
    
    
    
    A morning spent asking around among the castle staff netted some clothing to hold them over until Shad could arrange for a tailor, along with some first aid supplies courtesy of the castle infirmary.  Several of the women piling their husbands' or sons' cast-offs into his arms had faces Shad recognized.  They tutted over him, commenting on how tall he'd grown, and how much he'd come to resemble his father, which in turn led to condolences that had him retreating back to his quiet wing of the castle at the first opportunity.  
    
    Ganondorf was still sleeping when he returned.  Shad left the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed and returned to the parlor to continue his reading.  His new position as court historian (a position he strongly suspected Princess Zelda had invented for him) gave him access to the vast royal library, more texts than could be read in a lifetime.  While he much preferred to be in the field making first-hand discoveries, he had no complaints about an endless supply of books.
    
    It was nearly noon when Shad heard the creak of a door opening.  He looked up, expecting to see Ganondorf, but the door to his bedchamber was closed.  He stared at it, puzzled, until a soft cough from behind him made him turn.
    
    A servant peeked around the partially-opened door to the hallway, a tray balanced on one arm.  “Sir Shad?  The kitchen staff thought you might be hungry.”  She made no move to enter the parlor.  “Sorry to barge in, sir.  I knocked, but you must not have heard me.  I thought perhaps you were out.”
    
    “Oh!  It's no trouble, miss.”  Shad leapt up and crossed the room to take the tray.  How long had she been at the door?  Oh dear, how embarrassing.  He cleared his throat.  “Thank you.  Yes, I suppose I ought to eat something today.  My goodness...”  The morning had gone by so quickly; he'd completely forgotten.  
    
    “Quite so, sir.”  The girl looked past his shoulder, as though she were checking the room for something she hoped not to find.  “If that'll be all, sir?”  She plucked at her apron hem.
    
    “Oh, yes, don't let me keep you, miss.  Thank you again.”
    
    With a quick curtsy, the girl scuttled back down the hall.  Shad had the distinct impression that he wouldn't encounter servants in this corridor very often.  Well, he couldn't rightly blame them for being frightened, and he was used to doing his own housekeeping in any case.
    
    Shad settled back down to examine the tray.  It looked to be mostly supper leftovers-- a generous portion of steak and kidney pie, a hunk of cheese, some bread and a bowl of fruit preserves, and a decanter of wine.  He fixed a small plate for himself, forgoing the pie and being careful to leave the lion's share for his charge, and nibbled while he read.  
    
    After another half hour, with his breakfast finished and still no sign of Ganondorf, Shad decided it wouldn't do to let him sleep the entire day away.  The man hadn't had anything to eat or drink for at least a day, and his wounds still needed to be looked over.    
    
    Ganondorf appeared to have gotten up, sifted through the pile of clothing for something to wear, dressed, and returned to bed.  A heavy sigh signaled that he was, in fact, awake.
    
    “What now?”
    
    Shad stepped closer.  “Ah, there's food,” he said.  When that garnered no response, he stepped closer still. “You really should try to eat something.  You're injured and you need to get your strength up.”
    
    Ganondorf didn't roll his eyes, but Shad had the feeling he would have, if only it weren't so much effort.
    
    “See here, old boy, you'll have no sympathy from me.  You did try to take over my country, after all, and caused no end of trouble.”  Shad's attempt at stern authority sounded laughable even to him.  
    
    This, at least, got Ganondorf's attention.  He studied Shad with the look of someone who's just stepped in something unpleasant.  
    
    “Just get up, would you?”  Shad didn't like having to resort to commands, but if the man was going to act against his own interests just to spite him there wasn't much choice.  
    
    Ganondorf rolled to his feet, the promise of a messy death in his eyes if only Zelda's spell weren't in the way. The fact that the man's sleeves and trouser legs were several inches too short did very little to mitigate how menacing he was in that moment.  
    
    Shad took a step back.
    
    “I could twist your head from your skinny little neck.”  The soft growl of that voice sent ice down's Shad's spine.
    
    “Well,” Shad said, pausing to gulp down the rock-sized lump that had jumped up his throat.  “Theoretically, perhaps that is true, though the amount of torque required may exceed your physical capabilities.  But, in fact,” he said, drawing himself to his full height with considerable effort, “you _can't_ do any such thing.  We had a demonstration of that last night, and we both witnessed the result.”
    
    The muscles in Ganondorf's arms twitched as he clenched his fists, but the man had no retort.  
    
    “Right.”   Now that that moment of stark terror was out of the way, it was back to the task at hand.  “Let's get some food in you, and I'll look at some of those wounds.”
    
    
    
    Had it been any other freakishly huge man, the sight would have been comical.  Ganondorf was out of scale with everything in the room, from the clothes he wore to the chair he sat in and the plate he ate from.  He sat hunched over his food, picking at it with surprising delicacy with his large fingers.  Shad had never seen anyone eat so neatly with their hands before.
    
    The dead-eyed stare was back, as Ganondorf looked at his food without seeming to really _see_ it, but after that display in the bedchamber Shad welcomed it.  Hopefully his charge would arrive at a happy medium between violent rage and total despair at some point in the near future-- for now, it was easier to deal with the despair. 
    
    Shad waited until Ganondorf had finished eating to start prodding at his injuries.  What cuts had slipped between the plates of his armor weren't terribly dangerous in and of themselves, though he had narrowly avoided having his left hamstring cut, and a gash under his arm could easily have turned bad if Link had gotten a slightly better angle.  The main concern now was infection.  After a week in the dungeon with no medical attention, Ganondorf's wounds were red and inflamed.    
    
    “This might be better done in the washroom,” Shad said, after a few minutes' assessment.  “These will need to be cleaned again.”
    
    Gathering his supplies, Shad led the way.  He instructed Ganondorf to remove his ill-fitting shirt and sit on the floor while Shad filled a bowl with soap and warm water.  Lighting a candle, he brought both it and the bowl and settled himself beside his charge.  “I apologize,” he said.  “This isn't ideal, but the royal physician won't see you.”  He took his dagger and held it over the candle flame to clean the blade.
    
    “No, I expect not.”  Ganondorf watched him work with mild curiosity.  He didn't flinch when Shad reopened his wounds.
    
    Shad did.  He'd been taught what to do about infected wounds, but had never had to treat one.  Every cut felt wrong, somehow.  He couldn't imagine wielding a blade with the intent to carve open another person.
    
    The wounds bled sluggishly, but there was no discharge that Shad could see.  Wetting a clean cloth, he set about washing them.  Ganondorf's bath had taken care of much of the dried blood and dirt, but nothing could be missed.  The water in the bowl quickly clouded red, darkening with each rinse.
    
    Through all this, Ganondorf was quiet, a pensive frown spreading on his mouth.  
    
    Finally, the silence proved too awkward for Shad to bear.  “So,” he said, wringing out the washcloth, “am I right in assuming that that,” he gestured to the pale scar in the middle of Ganondorf's chest, “was from...?”
    
    “My execution?”  Ganondorf raised an eyebrow.  “My first one.  You are bold enough to ask the question but not bold enough to use the word?  Yes,” he said, after pinning Shad with his gaze.  “I was run through.”
    
    Shad ducked his head.  His ears were warm, for some reason.  Goodness, but the man's eyes were quite intense up close.  He'd always assumed from the descriptions that Gerudo eyes were hazel or a light brown, and that any talk of golden eyes had been poetic license.  Such was not the case.  The descriptions were perfectly accurate.
    
    “You can see the exit wound, as well,” Ganondorf said.  He leaned forward and pulled his hair out of the way.  A smaller scar glimmered like a star near his spine.  
    
    Without a thought, Shad reached out to brush his fingers over it.  He snatched his hand back when Ganondorf shuddered.  “Sorry!  I...really oughtn't to have done that.  I apologize.”  Sometimes things were too fascinating to leave alone.  “Does it hurt, still?”  
    
    To his surprise, Ganondorf answered rather than ignore or insult him.  “At times.  It was an enchanted blade; the wound never seemed to truly heal.”
    
    Lucky for Hyrule.  And Link.  If Ganondorf had been at his full strength, the poor fellow might have met his end. Still, the thought of such an injury lingering for so long was unsettling. 
    
    Shad found he didn't want to think about such things anymore, and went back to his work.  He opened a jar of salve and began spreading it carefully over the cleaned wounds.  It was strong-smelling stuff; he fought the urge to sneeze.
    
    “You were the one who stopped the execution.”
    
    Shad blinked.  “Yes,” he said, choosing not to look up and meet that stare again.  He could feel the blush rising up his neck.
    
    “Why?”
    
    “Because,” Shad said, fumbling for the words that had come so easily when he'd pleaded his case to Princess Zelda.  “You're the only Gerudo that there is in the entire world.  And you saw the Civil War first-hand, and the years after.  And you must know a lot of things that have been lost for centuries.”  He shrugged, and concentrated on dabbing the rest of the salve over the smaller scratches and scrapes.  “It would be like burning a library, or destroying a temple, I suppose.  It's not in me to stand by while something like that happens.”
    
    Goddesses, he must sound like a fool.  Zelda had been the only one not to look at him as though he were soft in the head when he explained himself.  Even Link had thought him mad, though he was, of course, far too kind to say so outright.
    
    When he chanced to glance up, he found Ganondorf studying him intently.  He did his best not to cringe away.  
    
    “You will come to regret your actions.”  Ganondorf smiled, little more than a grim twist at the corner of his mouth. “If you haven't already.”
    
    “Yes, well...”  Shad cut dressings from a roll of linen bandages.  “There's no point in second-guessing myself now.”  He most certainly was doing just that, but he did admit that it was pointless.
    
    “I found my way free of the Twilight.  I will find my way free of this spell.”  His voice didn't have the low rumble it had carried earlier.  Ganondorf spoke the threat as though commenting on the weather.  “And you will regret convincing your princess to spare my life.”
    
    “I thought I made it clear,” Shad said, dressing Ganondorf's wounds and doing his best to sound irritated rather than unnerved, “that there were to be no more threats made.”
    
    The subtle vibration moved up through Shad's hands when Ganondorf laughed.  “Not a threat, little jailer.  Merely a prediction.”  He smiled, showing teeth.  “You have such complete faith in her, don't you?  But we three are equal in strength,” he said, flexing his right hand.  The mark on it was dimmed, but present.  “She cannot hold me back forever.”
    
    “Well, the way I understand it,” Shad said, brows furrowed, “it's two against one, as far as all that goes.”  All that business with the Triforce was too metaphysical for him.  He wasn't really one-hundred percent on magic; he was sure there were rules, but they followed an alien logic.  As a man of science, he much preferred studies that could be grounded in observation and consistency.  
    
    Ironic that he'd now found himself relying on magic to such an extent.  
    
    “You understand nothing.”  
    
    Shad looked up to find Ganondorf glaring at the wall, his mouth set in a thin line.  Right.  “I'll ask about that moodiness when I next see the physician.  Might be a side effect.”
    
    Ganondorf made a noise in his throat.  “Aren't you finished yet?”
    
    “Nearly.”  Shad tied off the end of the last bandages.  They would need to be checked tomorrow, but for now he was satisfied.  He stood, and motioned for Ganondorf to do the same.  The man made no offer to help clean up, not that Shad expected it.  When the mess was sorted out, he watched Ganondorf look over the bandages, silently critiquing Shad's work.  “You're welcome,” Shad said, some of his growing upset slipping out despite himself.  He hadn't expected this to be easy, but his nerves were worn very thin already, whether out of a lingering fear that the spell would fail or something else entirely.  He wasn't sure.  
    
    Ganondorf crossed his arms.  “I am tired.”
    
    “You slept at least twelve hours.”  Shad motioned for him to follow back into the parlor.  He hoped he wouldn't have to lead his charge along by the nose forever.  “You should stay awake for a while.”
    
    “The point of that being what, exactly?”
    
    Shad swallowed the first response that came to mind.  “I brought some books from the royal library,” he said, after a deep breath.  “They should fill you in on some of what you've missed while you were...elsewhere.”  He went to the stack and picked up a medium-sized volume.  A primer on Hyrulean history would be the place to start after missing several centuries' worth of current events.  “There.”  He handed the book to Ganondorf. “Something to do.”
    
    “Sounds scintillating.”  
    
    “Then stare at the wall for another few hours; I don't care.”  Shad rubbed his temples.  He'd have to see the physician about a headache remedy.  “I have some arrangements to make,” he said.  “Just stay awake.”
    
    
    
    
    
    His errands hadn't been any more restful than dealing with his charge.  Gossip spread through a castle like measles at the best of times, and while none but a select few knew the full extent of what had transpired over the last few weeks, the fact that Ganondorf was some kind of dangerous magician involved with Hyrule's recent calamity was known.  Along with the fact that Shad had interceded on his behalf.  
    
    The opinion of the castle staff seemed to be split down the middle as to whether Shad was barking mad or incredibly stupid.  And they were not bashful about sharing said opinions.
    
    The library was a welcome retreat, as it had been yesterday.  Shad busied himself there for a long while, getting the lay of the place and doing some light cleaning.  It was late at night when he resigned to return to his apartments.
    
    Ganondorf was in the same place Shad had left him, standing in the middle of the parlor with the book in hand. It was shut.
    
    “Surely you're not done with that already,” Shad said, shrugging out of his jacket.  “That's five hundred pages.”
    
    “Haven't started it.”
    
    “What?”  Shad got closer, and noticed how red Ganondorf's eyes were.  “Have you been standing like this all evening?”
    
    Ganondorf sneered, his gaze locked on the far wall.  “You mentioned something about staring at the wall and staying awake, so that's what I've done.”
    
    Oh.  “I...  Oh, dear,” Shad said.  “I didn't mean for you to-”
    
    “That wasn't my decision, now was it?” Ganondorf snapped.  “Are you going to leave me like this all night, as well?”
    
    “Right, er, go on and sit down, then.”  Shad sat in the opposite chair, bracing his hands on his knees.  He took a deep breath, blew it out again.  “Sorry, old boy.  I didn't realize...  I thought the spell was a bit smarter than that.”
    
    “Spells aren't smart, little jailer.”  Ganondorf pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids.  His eyes had to be very dry.  Had he been able to blink at all, even?  “They follow their structure, and that's all.”
    
    “Sorry.”  Shad frowned.  “I'll stay here tomorrow, and we'll get a handle on this spell situation.”  He wondered if the library had anything that would help.  He'd just spent hours down there doing not much of anything useful. Now he felt rather guilty about that.  Here he was, shirking a responsibility he'd insisted on taking, and it hadn't been more than a couple days.  “That must have been terribly boring, standing there all that time.”
    
    The Gerudo looked at him with half-lidded eyes.  “I entertained myself with thoughts of what I would do should the spell suddenly break.  Shall I tell you?”  He smirked.  “It was such a pleasant little daydream.”
    
    “Er...no.  No, I'd much rather you didn't.”  That curious lump was back in his throat, and Shad reminded himself that Princess Zelda had no equal in magical ability, and that he was quite safe.  Ganondorf looking at him as though mentally measuring him for his casket was something he would just need to get used to.  
    
    “Oh, lighten up, Hylian.”  Ganondorf's smirk turned sour.  “It's not as though I can do any harm,” he said, the final word spat out in disgust.  “You and your princess saw to that.”
    
    Shad sighed.  “You've no right to be angry about that.”
    
    “Order me to stop being angry, then.”
    
    “You hurt a lot of people,” Shad said, ignoring the obvious taunt.  “And you would have kept right on, until you'd run Hyrule into the ground.”
    
    Ganondorf leaned back in his chair.  “Certain of that, are you?”
    
    “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am!”  Aware that he was rising to the bait, Shad stood and paced the room.  “So don't act like you're the victim in all this.  And you're still alive, besides, which is a lot better than what would have occurred otherwise.”
    
    “I expect my head would be decorating the castle gates were it not for your timely rescue,” Ganondorf said, regaining that infuriating attitude again.  He only seemed to cheer up when he was making Shad miserable.
    
    “Don't be disgusting,” Shad snapped.  “We're not barbarians.”
    
    Ganondorf's sudden bark of laughter nearly startled Shad out of his skin.  “No, no, you'd have dealt with my carcass in a refined, civilized fashion, I'm sure.”  
    
    “Is that what you _wanted?_ And don't answer that,” Shad added hurriedly, “I don't want to know.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses.  His headache was reasserting itself.
    
    When he looked up, he found Ganondorf peering at him over steepled fingers.  “And what was it that you were expecting from all this, little jailer?” he said.  “My undying gratitude?  If you want me to fall to the ground and kiss your feet, you need only say the word.”
    
    “Some acknowledgment that I saved your life would have sufficed.”  
    
    “Yes, how noble of you.  And if I refused to share my great wealth of knowledge with you,” Ganondorf said, “would you return me to Princess Zelda and her chopping block?”
    
    “You couldn't refuse me.”  Shad frowned to hear his own words.  It was only the truth, but there was certainly an ugliness to it.  
    
    A thoughtful hum was Ganondorf's only reply.  He seemed pleased, or as close as he got to pleased.
    
    “Just go and sleep,” Shad said.  “I've had enough of you for one day.”
    
    “Oh,” Ganondorf said, “the feeling is more than mutual.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one this time. Shad tries to get a handle on things.
    
    
    Shad tapped the tip of his pen against the pages of his notebook.  “Alright, now I want you to try to disobey.”  
    
    “I don't know why you assume I haven't been doing exactly that since the moment the spell took root.”  Ganondorf slouched in what he'd seemed to claim as his chair, arms and legs crossed.  “I'm not a dullard, Hylian.”  He smirked.  “You also have just given me a command, if you hadn't noticed.”
    
    Shad pressed his fingers to his temple and silently counted backwards from ten.  “Right.” 
    
    “I wonder,” Ganondorf said, “if you commanded me to defy you successfully, what the result would be?  Would the spell kill me, or drive me mad?”  He smiled with the gentleness of a saw blade.  “I will not insult your princess' intelligence to think that the key to my freedom could be so easily guessed.  Still, I wonder.”
    
    “I chose my wording for a reason,” Shad said.  “Whatever your opinion may be, I'm not dull, either.”  Whether Ganondorf was sincere or not, he would have to be careful during this experiment.  He trusted Princess Zelda, but he saw little reason to go looking for trouble.  “Now,” he said, “stand up.”
    
    With a sigh, and without the slightest hesitation, Ganondorf stood.  “We already know that I can't argue with such a simple command.”  He crossed his arms, impatient and serious where just moments before he had been glib. “Give me something I can negotiate with.  Something to interpret.”
    
    Shad jotted down a perfunctory note while he thought.  Something open to interpretation.  His eyes fell on the decanter, still half full from the day before.  “Pour some wine?”
    
    This time there was a pause, the Gerudo's face set in a concentrated scowl while he picked up the decanter.  With a visible effort, Ganondorf poured a glassful of wine precisely onto the rug.
    
    That wasn't what Shad had meant, which meant they had made something of a breakthrough.  He made a note of it.  “That's going to stain,” he said, looking at the patch of red with vague unease.  
    
    “My legacy.”  Ganondorf's words were mocking, but he, too, stared at the spilled wine.  Triumph, however slight, flashed across his eyes.  
    
    It was disturbing that Ganondorf had been able to bend as innocuous a request as that.  Shad frowned.  “For the sake of being somewhat scientific about this, what do you think it was that allowed you to do that?”
    
    Ganondorf continued to contemplate the wine-stained rug.  “It is difficult to determine from a single success. Perhaps incomplete instructions are the key.”  He turned his gaze to the decanter he still held.  “A lack of clarity appears to help.”
    
    “Yes,” Shad said.  “That certainly merits further exploration.”  All at once, he felt significantly less safe.  Well, the only cure for fear was knowledge.  “I'd like to try something, and explaining will defeat the purpose.”  He readied his pen.  “Do it again.”
    
    Ganondorf dutifully poured more wine onto the rug.
    
    Shad made a note.  “That looked as though it were easier this time.”
    
    “Unfortunately,” Ganondorf said.  He looked at the enlarged stain as though it were now entirely spoiled.
    
    “Pour some wine,” Shad said, on an off-handed hunch.
    
    Hands shaking so that half the remaining wine splashed onto the service tray, Ganondorf, at length, filled one of the glasses.  
    
    Shad refilled his pen and turned to a new page in his notebook.  “Two vague commands, with very different results,” he said.  “Most confounding.”
    
    “I knew what you meant.  The first time,” Ganondorf clarified, when Shad gave him a puzzled look.  “I was able to twist it once, but I couldn't manage it a second time.”
    
    He would scarcely be able to read his own writing later, but Shad wanted to record everything as quickly as possible.  “So, it would seem that intention does play a part.”
    
    “To my profound dismay, yes.”
    
    And to Shad's profound relief.  “But you can beat it once, while you still have...plausible deniability, shall we say?”
    
    “So it would seem,” Ganondorf said.  “For the moment.”
    
    “I wonder what that means.”  
    
    For the next several hours, they poked and prodded at the edges of the spell.  Shad had his charge complete a variety of tests, from balancing books on his head to answering riddles, taking dictation and repeating sequences of numbers.  He varied the details of his instructions, sometimes spelling out every step explicitly, and sometimes omitting crucial information, or simply stopping mid-sentence.  His notebook was quickly filling with data that would take some time to digest, and time passed quickly.
    
    Looking up to refill his pen once more, Shad noticed that the sun was now quite low in the sky.  He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.  “Is that the time?”  He removed his glasses and rubbed his dry eyes.  “Perhaps that's enough for now.”
    
    The servant girl had simply left supper outside the door this time.  Shad was unsure how long it had been sitting in the hallway, but anything that might have been warm was not so any longer.
    
    They ate in silence.  Shad looked over his notes, careful not to drip anything on the pages.  Patterns were emerging, though it would take thorough study to make any sort of useful conclusion from the day's exercises. He'd never studied magic in any capacity; he had no idea if he were going about it the right way.  He supposed he had an experienced sorcerer to bounce ideas off of, at least.
    
    “Would you care to try one last experiment for the evening?” Shad asked, when their unceremonious meal was finished.
    
    Ganondorf sneered.  “I suppose my schedule is clear, Hylian.”
    
    Shad had picked up on an oversight in his notes.  Or rather, certain aspects of the spell had not been sufficiently explored, those being the safeguards Princess Zelda had put in place regarding Shad's personal safety.  He was at something of a loss for how to test that particular part of the spell, but one must begin somewhere.  “This is only an informal test, understand,” he said.  “A lark.”
    
    Ganondorf said nothing, but the look he gave Shad across the small table spoke volumes.  
    
    “Right.”  Shad stood, and bade Ganondorf do the same.  “Now,” he said.  “I'd like for you to slap me across the face.”
    
    For a split second, the Gerudo tensed.  Then, slowly, he reached out and gave Shad a light tap on the cheek.
    
    “Interesting,” Shad said.  The touch of Ganondorf's hand had barely registered.  “I don't know if that qualifies beyond a technicality.”
    
    Ganondorf shrugged.  He must have been growing tired, or else he'd simply lost patience with an experiment that wasn't yielding the results he wanted.
    
    Shad, on the other hand, was finding himself increasingly fascinated by unraveling the logic of the spell.  “This time,” he said, bracing himself.  “I'd like for you to slap me hard enough to hurt.”  
    
    Without hesitation, Ganondorf did so.  The clap of his palm against Shad's face rang in the Hylian's ears.  Shad stumbled a half step to the side to keep himself from tumbling over.
    
    “Jolly good!” he said, tears stinging his eyes.  That certainly had hurt, but then, he had quite literally asked for it. “I notice you didn't hesitate that time.”  He gingerly felt his cheek.  The slap wouldn't leave a mark, he didn't think, but his skin was tender, all pins and needles.
    
    Ganondorf crossed his arms.  “My instructions were clear, were they not?”   
    
    Very interesting.  It would seem that Shad's commands could supersede his own protection, at least to an extent.  A few bruises were a small price to learn how far that rule could bend.  “Yes, that's true.  Very well, then.”  Shad squared himself up, arms ready to shield his face.  “Now, I want you to do that again, as hard as you can.”  
    
    He realized as he said it that his enthusiasm may have taken him too far.  Rather than finding himself bowled over, however, Shad watched as Ganondorf went pale.  The man tensed for a brief moment, and, as the tension left him, his eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the floor.
    
    “Oh, my goodness!”  Shad darted forward to catch him, but thought better of it.  He was not strong, and his attempt might cause them both injury.  The most he could do was nudge Ganondorf farther from the furniture to avoid hitting his head.  
    
    It was difficult to discern whether Ganondorf was conscious or not, but he was in a bad way, sprawled out on the rug and twitching.  “”Never mind!” Shad called, running to fetch some water.  “Never mind!  Just lie there, please. I'm so sorry!”  
    
    When he returned, the fit had passed, Ganondorf now lying insensible on the floor.  Shad knelt beside him.  The man was breathing, at least.  Lacking the foresight to have brought a pillow, Shad moved to prop Ganondorf's head on his lap, and flicked some water on his face to revive him.  
    
    Ganondorf stirred, scowl firmly in place before his eyes had even opened.  “You imbecile.”  He swatted Shad's hand away. “Stop doing that.”
    
    Shad set the glass of water aside.  “Are you alright?  I'm very sorry about that.”  
    
    “Your stupidity continues to astound me.  I cannot harm you; of that, we are both well aware.  I also cannot disobey you outright,” he said, lip curling into a snarl.  “And yet, you blithely give me an order that is impossible for me to fulfill, and then act surprised at the inevitable result.”  Ganondorf glared up with eyes that were still slightly out of focus.  “Idiot.”
    
    A defensive retort was on his lips, but Shad refrained.  He had just sent the man into fits, after all.  “I don't understand,” he said.  “You struck me just a moment ago when I told you to, and there was no trouble at all.”
    
    Ganondorf rolled his eyes.  “I know my strength, little jailer.  That blow did you no harm, or are you so unaccustomed to pain?”
    
    Shad felt his cheek again.  The sting had faded to a faint tingle.  There would be no mark; the skin didn't even feel warm anymore.  “Ah.”  So, it would seem that intention mattered for both of them.  Ganondorf's aim hadn't been to cause harm.  He had, in fact, taken great care not to injure Shad in the slightest, and so the spell had let him act.  Shad's injunction to use his full strength had put Ganondorf and the spell itself in a paradoxical bind, so to speak.  
    
    While it was comforting to know that the spell wouldn't allow Shad to be hurt through his own ignorance, the consequences were rather alarming for his charge.  A careless word could mean a repeat of what had just transpired, or perhaps worse.  
    
    He wanted to promise that it wouldn't happen again, but without knowing everything that could trigger the spell in such a way there was little that Shad could say with any certainty.  
    
    “No more for tonight,” he said.  “I think that's enough.”
    
    “How gallant of you.”  Ganondorf made to rise, but the effects of the spell lingered.  He got as far as pushing himself up on his elbows before sinking back down again, too disoriented and weak to sit up.  Brow furrowed, he muttered something in that ancient language.  
    
    “What is that you're speaking?”  Shad assumed that Old Hylian would have a few familiar sounds to it, but naturally he couldn't be sure.  
    
    Ganondorf rubbed his temples.  “My mother tongue, fool, what else?”  He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut.  “And before you ask, as I know you will, I was expressing my feelings on my current situation, not offering insult to you.  When I do that, I will use words you understand.”
    
    Shad coughed.  “Thank you?”  He was fairly sure that Ganondorf had insulted him numerous times already, but he wouldn't press the issue.  Of greater interest to him was confirmation that yes, it really was Gerudo he'd heard that first night and again just now.  Gooseflesh prickled his arms at the thought that he was the first living soul to hear that language spoken in centuries.  A heady experience, to be certain!  An even more wonderful thought occurred to him.  “Would you teach me?  Not right at this moment, of course...”
    
    Ganondorf peered up at him.  “You don't need to _ask_ , little jailor.”
    
    “I would prefer to ask,” Shad said.  He meant it, though he couldn't conceive of any real reason why Ganondorf would object.  “I'm sure you'd rather see your language preserved in some way, rather than have it die with you, wouldn't you?”
    
    Ganondorf laughed softly.  “You would ask me to decide, and then try to sway my decision in the next breath.” His expression was unreadable, but something about his grin made Shad both highly aware and very discomfited about the fact that the man's head still rested on his lap.  “Very well,” Ganondorf said.  “I shall consider your request.”
    
    
    
    
    
    Shad had been particularly careful to keep Ganondorf from mischief while still giving the man a few options to while the day away.  It was gratifying, when he returned from the library, to find his charge reading one of the books Shad had left him.  Ganondorf had fixed a pot of tea, as well.  
    
    Helping himself to a cup, Shad sat in the chair opposite, feeling for the first time that perhaps this task was not so insurmountable after all.  “I hope your day was pleasant,” he said, feeling awkward in the silence but loathe to spoil this rare tranquility.  
    
    Ganondorf merely grunted his assent, and it was then that Shad noticed the pen in his hand.  Unfamiliar with the workings of fountain pens, the Gerudo simply dipped it into the inkwell in front of him and continued writing in the book.  
    
    The book was the historical text Shad had selected, and had it been his own personal property he would have been annoyed.  It wasn't, and he had to swallow the quick jolt of panic that welled in his throat.  “Ah, what are you writing?”
    
    Ganondorf glanced up, as though just noticing Shad's presence.  “I wouldn't know about the later portions,” he said, dipping the pen again, “but the chapters regarding the war are ignorant and misleading.  I am making corrections.”  He frowned.  “As well as I'm able, with such small margins.”
    
    “I see,” Shad said, torn between interest in what 'corrections' Ganondorf sought to make and intense anxiety over one of the palace's books being vandalized.  “Is it...strictly necessary to make your notes in the book itself?” His voice crept higher as Ganondorf stared him down.  “I mean to say, wouldn't you rather have a notebook? You'd have more space.”
    
    “And what purpose would that serve?”  Ganondorf shifted his gaze back to his task.  “I'm not writing for my own benefit, and this text is neither accurate nor beautiful.”  He turned a few pages, checking over something previously written, and then returned to his place.  
    
    The pen nib scratched across the page while Shad looked on.  He couldn't very well stop the man-- or rather, he _could_ , of course he could, but this was the first glimmer of something other than anger in his charge.  He was hesitant to stamp that out.  He watched as Ganondorf struck out a line with rather more force than was necessary. There was the soft scratch of ripped vellum, and a soft curse that Shad could relate to in feeling, if not understand in content.
    
    All things considered, the damage had already been done.  In that case, what point was there in telling Ganondorf to stop his writing?  Shad would simply have to explain the matter if and when the Gerudo's...alterations were noticed.  
    
    They sat in silence for the better part of an hour.  Shad sipped his tea and read one of his books, and Ganondorf continued his notes.  At length, after the teapot was empty and the sun had slipped below the horizon, Ganondorf laid down his pen.  
    
    Shad looked up from his book, blinking a few times to focus his eyes.  He was well accustomed to reading by lamp-light, but the practice wasn't doing his vision any favors.  “Finished?”  
    
    “I am out of space.”  Ganondorf shot him a look, daring him to comment.  Impatient for the ink to dry, the Gerudo blew on it, gently enough not to rustle the pages.
    
    With a cough, Shad fixed his eyes back on his own book.  “Well,” he said, pausing to clear his throat, “I did offer you a notebook.”  He lifted the book higher to shield his face at the soft chuckle that followed, feeling irrationally irritated.  He was a generally awkward person, socially speaking, but somehow it was far worse around the Gerudo, and damned if he knew why.  It wasn't fear; at least, not at this time.  Whatever it was, Ganondorf seemed to take amusement from it.
    
    “I have given your request some thought,” Ganondorf said.  
    
    Shad peeked over the top of his book to find Ganondorf smirking at him.  He fought the urge to duck behind his makeshift shield again.  Ganondorf looking directly at him had been terrifying at first.  It still was, but with additional facets Shad was unable to parse.  
    
    Ganondorf leaned back in his chair, setting the now-edited book aside.  “I will teach you,” he said, “with a few conditions.”
    
    “Which are?”  Shad very nearly agreed without asking.  Unless the soceror's conditions were completely vile, he'd agree regardless.  The opportunity was too singular to let pass.
    
    “I decide what you learn, and when.  And,” Ganondorf said, the smirk fading, “if you intend on learning my tongue, I expect you to study in earnest.  If you waste my time, and abandon this once your idle curiosity is satisfied, I will not indulge a request from you again.”
    
    That was...surprisingly reasonable, by Shad's estimation.  Though he wondered why Ganondorf was under the impression that he would become bored.  “You intend to teach me to fluency, then?”  
    
    Ganondorf raised a brow.  “If you are capable,” he said, doubt coloring his voice.  
    
    “Oh, splendid!”  Now, that was far more generosity than Shad had expected.  It would take time, but compared to an arcane language like that of the sky people, Gerudo couldn't be nearly so daunting.  And he would be able to _speak_ it, rather than simply read it.  His chief sorrow regarding the sky language was knowing he would never really know what it had sounded like while it was alive, how it had flowed; he could only study the dry bones.  To learn Gerudo in such a way was tantamount to performing a resurrection.  Shad leaned forward.  “What first?”

 

 


End file.
